


The Roommate

by Unrepentant_Marvelite



Series: Moving Forward [2]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Canon Disabled Character, Dogs, Erik is not a Happy Bunny, Homecoming, M/M, Military Backstory, Seizures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 17:31:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4271889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unrepentant_Marvelite/pseuds/Unrepentant_Marvelite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles looks for a roommate and Erik looks for a roommate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Roommate

The damn train is late.

It’s been a while since he’s been into the city proper and he’s forgotten that the damn train is _always_ late. Being on time is the exception rather than the rule. And Erik hates being late.

When at last the doors screech open at his stop, Erik sprints through, dodges two business men, an old lady with a shopping cart, three punks who need to pull their pants up, a mother and her sticky toddler before sprinting up the stairs to street level. He now is exactly sixteen minutes and twenty-five seconds late for his appointment and he still has ten and a half blocks left to go. All because he forgot the train would be late.

Erik is reminded once again why he fucking _hates_ civilians.

But those are the kinds of thoughts that his counselors at the Army Transition Assistance Office would scold him for.

“You must embrace the new opportunities of your civilian life!” they’d coo. Erik would translate this to mean, “Get over it, you dumb cunt. You’re a civilian now so start handling it.” He never understood why they couldn’t just say it that way in the first place.

And now, four days from “the beginning of an exciting new chapter in your life!” he is double-timing through muggy streets trying to find the address of this rat-hole so he can have somewhere to stow his gear at the end of the month besides his mother’s place in Queens. It’s a hike from the college but everything’s so fucking expensive nearby that he had to try further away. Erik doesn’t intend to do much more than sleep there though, so as long as it has four walls and roof it won’t make a difference where he ends up.

Finally, the building is in sight. Erik can’t tell if this would be considered a good neighborhood or a bad one. All the lines dividing the good places from the bad have been redrawn a hundred times over since he was a kid. And his frame of reference is a little skewed now, only having ever lived in base housing when he’s stateside. He doesn’t see any recently disturbed piles of rubbish, broken concrete, or abandoned vehicles that might be hiding an IED though, so he thinks that must be a good sign.

He has to push a buzzer outside to get in main door.

“Yes?” a voice answers after nearly thirty seconds of pushing the button marked “Manager.”

“I have an appointment with the Manager to see an apartment?”

“Oh. Your name?” the voice garbles out.

“Erik Lehnsherr.”

The latch pops on the security door. It takes Erik’s eyes several minutes to adjust to the gloom of the hallway. He feels himself tense in those moments of blindness and can’t help but start a little when he hears someone come down the hall.

“You’re Erik? You’re late. Didn’t think you’d show.”

“Yes. The train was late.” The prick of that irritation has yet to dull. Especially since his hurry over here means he is now sweating through the one nice civilian shirt he owns.

The man snorts at the excuse. “Yeah, no shit. Well, I guess you’re here so you might as well see the space.”

He leads Erik up a narrow flight of stairs and Erik is treated to a view of the man’s enormous backside. It’s hot and stuffy in the stairwell and smells like urine and cigarettes. By the time they get four floors up, the manager is panting like a dog. Erik can’t decide what he’d do if the man were to drop of a heart attack right now. Probably go to his next appointment for a showing. That way he’d at least be on time.

The manager keys them in to an apartment on the fourth. The door sticks and he has to swear and lean on it before it gives. “Little added security for ya,” he says as they step inside.

The ad online had called it an “efficiency apartment.” Erik now realizes that means “everything in one room.” There’s a microwave and a fridge that look older than Erik. A closet in the back holds the latrine and a shower too small to admit the manager. Erik would have to crouch to get under the spray.

“The ad said it was furnished.”

“Oh. Right,” the manager opens a set of double doors that he assumed held a closet. A bedframe and a tired mattress swing out to clank on the floor in the middle of the room. He understands why it was folded away.

“That’s it?”

The manager shrugs. “What else do you need?”

Truly, it’s a fair point. But the price listed in the ad is more than Erik wants to pay for something like this. Something that’s smaller than some of the Unaccompanied Housing he’s stayed in throughout his career. It’s also more than he can afford, really, once his Involuntary Separation Pay dries up and he has to dig into his savings. He might have to get a job sooner than he expected instead of just focusing on going back to real school for the first time in over a decade like he’d planned.

“You’re paying for the location,” the manager says when Erik raises these concerns.

Right. Of course. The location ten blocks from the nearest subway line and a forty-five minute commute away from where his classes will be at City College. Erik looks at his watch and decides if he leaves now, he should have plenty of time to get to the next showing.

\---

By the end of the day, Erik’s shirt is far less white than it was when he put it on this morning. It sticks to him in places it shouldn’t and he longs to unbutton the collar and tempt in a breeze. But there is one more appointment on his list and he doesn’t have time for another trip into the city before he’s discharged and expected to become a responsible, independent member of society. He might as well make the last appointment. If it’s anything like the last seven, the landlord won’t give a shit _what_ he looks like so long as he has cash handy for the deposit.

Erik has to double-check his notes before he enters the lobby of the last building. It’s within walking distance of City College and priced so low that Erik was sure it would be another shithole. But if the exterior is anything to judge by, it isn’t. All of the glass is intact and the lobby has real security cameras, not just dummies, and doesn’t smell like an armpit. What’s more, there is an actual, working elevator. The only catch, so far as he can see, is that taking this place would mean dealing with a roommate. Erik, as so many of his performance evals have kindly noted, is not so great with people. The way his last tour overseas ended has not done much to improve the situation either.

Erik takes a breath through his nose and exhales it slowly out his mouth as he steps off the elevator. He’s two minutes and thirty-seven seconds early which is plenty of time to sweep the hallway and secure all exits before approaching the door to apartment 4C at the end of the hall. Nothing has registered about this place as an outstanding security hazard yet but that only makes him more worried for the impending interview. If he fucks this up it’ll be very disappointing.

He knocks on the door to 4C. A few minutes and he hears the deadbolt slide back.

“Can I help you?” a British accent asks through a cracked door. It isn’t enough room to properly see inside or catch more than a glimpse of the speaker.

“I’m here for an interview,” Erik replies.

There is only silence in response until, “Um… no, I’m sorry, I believe you’re mistaken.”

Erik blinks at the crack through the door. He is not mistaken. He digs into his pocket to produce his notebook with the lineup for today’s apartment showings.

“I’m to meet with a ‘Charles’ for an interview and a showing of apartment 4C at 17—I mean, 5:30 PM,” Erik cocks an eyebrow at the door, “You’re Charles?”

“I… um, well, yes, but I believe there’s been a mistake… it’s just... hang on, what’s your name?”

“Erik Lehnsherr.”

The door gaps open further now as the man moves away. It clanks against the chain and Erik can see into the apartment a little. There are no obvious bloodstains or rat droppings. He hears the rustling of papers from inside and the man reappears holding a leather-bound datebook.

“…oh. Oh, damn. _Erik_ Lehnsherr. Right… of course. Hang on,” the door closes momentarily while he unhooks the chain and then Erik is looking at a smallish civilian with very blue eyes and an ugly gray sweater that looks like it belongs on someone twice his age.

“Sorry, it’s just… who did you speak to when you set up the showing? It wasn’t me, was it?”

“No,” Erik feels he would have remembered talking to this man, “I don’t recall her name.”

“But it was a woman?” He nods to himself, “Yes, that explains it. Sorry, you talked with one of my TAs, I think. She wrote you into my calendar here and it looks… um, well, it looks like ‘ _Erika_ Lehnsherr’, not Erik… I—I thought you were a woman…” he trails off blushing furiously.

“Well… I’m not a woman. Is that a problem?” There is a bite to Erik’s voice. The man is curled in on himself with his arms clutched to his chest. Erik doesn’t like people who can’t (or won’t) stand up for themselves even after they’ve made a mistake. He also doesn’t like people who apparently can’t be bothered to take their own appointments.

“Um,” says the man and he scuffs his toe on the floor a little, avoiding Erik’s eye, “It’s just… it’s not what I was expecting. I’m only—only looking for a roommate, all right? Just someone to share the space… not anything more. I don’t—I’m not looking for a, um, _friend_ or anything, ok?”

Erik blinks at him. That is… well, to be honest, that is exactly what he wants out of a roommate as well. In fact, Erik would have said something similar if the voice in his head (that sounds suspiciously like one of his counselors) hadn’t told him it would probably be very rude. It must not be though if this guy, this normal guy, just said it. Or maybe he just gives a few fucks about what other people think of him as Erik does. Either way, Erik’s estimate of the man has just, grudgingly, risen a few points.

“Yes, that’s fine. Perfect, actually. I just need somewhere to sleep and store my things.”

The man stands up a little straighter. He’s meeting Erik’s eye now.

“Good, ok. Well, as long as that’s clear then I might as well show you the space. We can—oh, bugger, did Jean (or whoever you talked with) warn you about the dog? I have a dog.”

That vaguely rings a bell. Erik isn’t much of a pet person and he thinks those little white rats that people in apartments insist on calling “dogs” are stupid but as long as it doesn’t piss everywhere he supposes he can handle it. For this price and location, he can definitely handle it.

“Here, let me get her,” he says and it’s then that Erik realizes there is something wrong with the other man. He limps a little as he crosses the living room and enters the hall. There’s also something fucked up about his right arm. It’s still clutched to his chest and Erik is suspicious that it isn’t a protective gesture (or even a voluntary one) like he’d first thought. All further study is halted, however, when a massive-ass, black, German-Shepherd-but-not-quite _thing_ clicks into the room.

The man winds his hand into its collar and squats carefully next to the beast.

“This is Lucy. Here, let her sniff your hand,” then to the dog he adds, “Make a friend, Lulu.”

Erik puts forward a hand with hesitancy. He would prefer not to have it shredded if the dog decides she doesn’t like the way he smells.

“Don’t be shy, she won’t bite. She just needs your scent and to know that it’s all right for you to be here. She’s very protective of me and it isn’t often that I have strangers over.”

“Um,” says Erik and the beast takes one disdainful sniff before sitting back on its haunches and giving its owner a skeptical look.

“Good girl. Brace, please,” he says to her. The dog stands and the man places his good hand square on her shoulder blades as he slowly gets to his feet. The beast doesn’t seem to mind being treated like a piece of furniture and holds very still while he catches his balance.

“Thank you,” then to Erik, “Well, I never did introduce myself properly, did I? I’m Charles Xavier. Sorry about the… erm… mix up.” He holds out his left hand to shake and it takes Erik longer than he’d like to admit to figure out that he has to hold out his own left in return. Funny how merely switching the side of that common gesture can be so off-putting.

“I—well,” Xavier gestures abruptly at the living room and then opens the door into the kitchen beyond. There is more natural light in that one room than Erik has seen in all the other apartments combined. It is also a hell of a lot cleaner and that (for some reason he doesn’t want to examine too closely) makes Erik feel calmer than he has all day.

They move on to the empty bedroom (which is furnished with a bed and desk, neither of which swing mysteriously out from the wall) and then to the latrine.

“This… I suppose we’ll have to share this,” Xavier says as though the idea’s just occurred to him. He seems to be liking the idea of Erik in his home less and less as they continue through the apartment. Erik, on the other hand, thinks he might want to move in immediately, black dog-beast and weird roommate notwithstanding.

There’re handlebars in the shower like in an old lady’s bathroom. Everything else looks normal though, as far as Erik can tell. It doesn’t smell like stale urine either and everything is the appropriate size instead of built for gnomes like some of the places he’s seen today.

The Beast is waiting for them when they leave the latrine. She is sitting in the hall, blocking the exit. Xavier makes a sharp snap-point gesture with his hand and says, “Lulu, go to your bed.” Surprisingly, she obeys and huffs off to what Erik assumes is the master bedroom at the end of the hall. She turns back only once at the door to glare at Erik. He doesn’t know much about dogs but he’s pretty sure they shouldn’t be able to give quite such a menacing death-glare like that.

They end up in the kitchen after that, seated at the table. Xavier pushes a pile of papers to Erik and says, “So,” before picking at a spot on the table for a minute or two. “I put all the terms… rent, utilities, et cetera… I put it all online in the advert and they’re there now in the contract… nothing’s changed but feel free to have a look anyway. If you have a problem with any of it we need to discuss it now.” The last bit has a hint of challenge and his head comes up like he’s hoping Erik will want to haggle over terms and thereby give an excuse to be thrown out. Erik says nothing.

“Well… I guess I have some questions for you, then,” and Xavier pulls a printed sheet towards him and pen.

“Do you have a job?”

“I’m in the army.” Xavier blinks at him. He’s clearly about to ask why a soldier would be looking for housing in this area of Manhattan but Erik decides to just head him off and nip that question in the bud.

“Well, for another four days I’m in the army. After that…” Erik sighs, “After that, no, I don’t have a job yet.”

“How are you going to pay the rent then?”

“I have savings. I haven’t really had many expenses since I went in. And then there’s the GI Bill. I get a housing stipend every month as long as I’m going to school.”

“You’re going to school?”

“Yes.”

“Where? When do you start?”

“City. Summer term.”

“And this housing stipend… that’s enough?”

“Yes,” Erik replies shortly. He doesn’t feel his finances are any of Xavier’s business beyond whether or not he can get his rent check in on time. Which he certainly can and would appreciate it if everyone stopped being so fucking convinced otherwise.

“Um,” Xavier looks back at his sheet of questions. “Well, then. Do you drink? Smoke?”

“Drink, yes. Smoke, no.” Not anymore anyway. When he was overseas it was up to a pack a day sometimes.

“Will you want to have people over? Family? Friends or a, um, significant other?”

“No.”

“No? Never?”

“No. I don’t have any friends here. My mother lives in Queens and doesn’t come to Manhattan. She’s my only family.”

Xavier nods absently, “That’s good, then,” but then seems to realize what he’s said.

“Well--! I don’t mean--! It isn’t good that you haven’t any friends yet in the area or that your mother won’t be visiting (I’m sure she’s lovely), I just mean… it’s good that you aren’t planning on frequent company. I… I don’t like strangers over all the time, you see… I mean, obviously, once in a while… just… well, just tell me first if you want someone over, all right? I need to, um…” he waves his hand around vaguely. Erik has no idea what that’s supposed to mean and it must show because Xavier blushes. “…I need to… prepare,” he finishes lamely. Erik still has no idea what that means but he nods anyway.

There are a few more questions. Erik does his best to answer in monosyllables and reveal as little as possible without seeming uncooperative. He wants the room but doesn’t want this stranger to have too much personal information. That’s bad security protocol especially since the guy seems so unwilling to rent to Erik and is probably just asking all this to be nosy.

Finally, Xavier’s little sheet of questions and notes is full. There’s nothing left to ask and Erik is suspicious he hasn’t said anything to _completely_ disqualify himself as a candidate yet. But still, Xavier won’t meet his eye and is biting at his lip like he’d rather bite it off than say whatever’s bugging him so much about Erik’s application.

Erik folds his arms across his chest, leans back in the chair and waits. If Xavier isn’t going to rent to him then he needs to find his balls and just fucking say it.

Finally, “Um… so there’s a credit check, obviously. If that comes back fine then… well, then I think I can offer you the room. The only thing is… well… it’s just that Rav—er, my sister insisted that I tell you… and really, I don’t think it’s any of your business but she _insisted_ , you see, said it would be horrible of me to rent to you without telling you so… it’s just that I have this seizure disorder and I really don’t know how that would affect you but, um, well, she _insisted._ So… that’s fine, then, yes? Are you still interested in the room?”

Erik frowns. He is aware there was some sort of key information hidden in there but he isn’t sure which part of it was causing so much anxiety. Like Xavier said himself, he doesn’t know how any of it is Erik’s problem. Perhaps this is something a civilian should worry about but Erik doesn’t know enough yet about living in The Real World to know any better. He shrugs and nods his head.

“Really?” Xavier’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. When Erik nods again he frowns a little and shifts uncomfortably as if he doesn’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Well… what about queers, then? Are you… are you going to have a problem living with me because I’m gay?”

Well, now _that_ is something Erik understands someone objecting to. He’s never lived with anyone before that swung that way— or, at least, he doesn’t think he has; when Erik joined up, Don’t-Ask-Don’t-Tell was in full force. For all he knows, half his bunkmates for the past dozen years were gay. In that light, he doesn’t think he has a problem with it. There might’ve been secret-queers in his unit but they never, apparently, had problems keeping their hands and eyes to themselves so Erik can’t see why this guy won’t be able to. And if it turns out he can’t, well, Erik doesn’t have any issues reminding him why that isn’t a smart move.

And suddenly Xavier’s comment from earlier—the one about looking for “just a roommate”—makes a lot more sense. Erik feels better knowing that’s already been settled.

“No, I don’t have a problem with that.”

Xavier leans back in his chair. The tension is dripping out of his shoulders but he’s still frowning slightly and looking at Erik like he isn’t quite happy with what he’s getting into.

“I guess that’s settled then. When… when were you looking to move in?”

“Monday?”

“That’s less than a week!”

“Is that a problem?”

“…no. No, it’s just… sooner than I’d imagined. If the credit report and everything comes back by then… well, I guess there’d be no problem with Monday, then.”

Erik lets that settle for a moment.

“Does this mean I have the room?” he asks quietly.

Xavier sighs. Not the most reassuring sound but then—

“Yes. Yes, it does.”


End file.
